


ready, set, now what

by theprimrosepath



Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, First Meetings, Gen, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Post-Kingdom Hearts III, Suicidal Thoughts, Violent Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-09
Updated: 2019-05-09
Packaged: 2020-02-28 21:55:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18765001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theprimrosepath/pseuds/theprimrosepath
Summary: Vanitas was supposed to die.Except he didn't. He doesn't know what to do about that.





	ready, set, now what

**Author's Note:**

> finally cross-posting this.
> 
> to reiterate the tags: there are suicidal and violent, intrusive-like thoughts depicted here.

Vanitas wakes up alone in the Keyblade Graveyard. He stares at the clear blue sky, absent of any dark clouds or looming Kingdom Hearts, digs his fingers into the rough, hard dirt, and yells, " _What the fuck._ "

The storm inside stirs. A couple of Floods spill from his chest to scurry angrily around.

He doesn't know what to do or where to go. Clearly, the old man's plan has failed—he wouldn't have bothered to allow Vanitas to continue his existence, with no more need of his tool. But even then, how is he alive now?

He was _ready_. He was _done_.

More Unversed spill and spill from his confusion and fury. Most of them don't bother to acknowledge him and wander away like incurious animals, but a Hareraiser crouches beside his shoulder. It brushes him with its ears as if trying to provide some uncertain reassurance.

**Kill it.**

But the flood of emotions fleeing his body leaves Vanitas empty and tired. He reaches out a hand and pats the head of the Hareraiser instead of skewering it with his Keyblade.

Either way, he isn't staying in this godawful wasteland a second longer. Another Unversed flows into being at the thought of Xehanort finding him here. No, Vanitas is ready to do whatever he wants for once in his miserable life. So when he sits up, he sees the edge of a drop-off and, for a fleeting second, considers whether what he wants is the end.

A few of the Unversed, including the Hareraiser beside him, shudder and turn to him with twitching limbs.

**Do it. Kill them. Die. Let blood spatter this dirt.**

Vanitas groans. Two more Unversed tumble from his body in streams of darkness.

He can't stay here.

———

As always, he can sense Ventus's light, brilliant and pulsing with satisfaction. Wherever he is, whatever he's doing, he's not afraid; he's not in pain. The old man really _must_ have lost somehow.

Vanitas turns and runs in the opposite direction of that light. As far as he can go.

The entire time, the void of the Ocean Between calls to him. Here, the Unversed that he produce fall into nothing. As far as he can tell, they stop existing, and it brings him no pain when he loses his sense of them. If he let himself go here, too, would it hurt?

He grinds his teeth and keeps running.

Eventually, the glimpses of worlds feel better rather than worse, and the light of Ventus is very far. Vanitas slows to a stop, and a quiet forest melts into existence out of the vanishing shadows. Glimmers of late afternoon sun carve the air and dapple the grass in warmth. He gasps for breath, the rich scent of soil thick in his nose, and for a moment he's at peace.

Then the ache of his limbs and lungs irritate, and an Unversed slips into being.

Before the blob of darkness has even taken shape, he's slashing at the creature with his Keyblade. It falls apart, but Vanitas can't tell if it made a sound at its abrupt death as the pain lights his every nerve on fire.

He stumbles into a lean on his Keyblade and hisses, "Ah, shit."

And of course, more Unversed spill from him onto the grass. They shudder and twitch in the dappled light, dark, jagged shapes that mar the rich colors of the forest. **Kill them. ~~You~~ They deserve it.**

"Dammit," Vanitas spits at them. "Go away."

Obediently, they collapse into puddles and dart away to unseen corners. A couple more that now flow from him do the same.

Vanitas buries his face in a hand and breathes. He can feel his grip on his Keyblade tremble, and he manages to catch up his frustration this time and shove it away into some empty corner of his mind before more than a single Flood can spill out and take some of it, too.

There were songbirds chirping in the trees before. Now, all he can hear is the weak rustle of leaves.

He was _ready_.

———

Eventually, Vanitas has a rein on himself. He starts walking.

He reaches a wall first, taller than he would ever feel inclined to scale. The brick is warm orange and well-laid, well-maintained, so he can guess that there must be civilization very close by. He turns away from the wall and walks in the opposite direction.

Thankfully, the Unversed are doing a good job at staying away. A few minutes into his walk, the birds restart their chirps.

He finds a path in the forest and, after a short hesitation, alters his direction to follow it. As long as he keeps the wall behind him, he figures, the path can't do anything but take him _away_ for a while. It's a few minutes more when he arrives at a gate.

Vanitas peers closely. The cast-iron doors hang open, and ivy flourishes unbridled along the worn, faded walls.

There's a courtyard just beyond, along with a huge manor. It looks as derelict as its outer ramparts.

Why not? Vanitas slips past the gates and heads into the house.

It's quiet. Dust motes float like a fog through the beams of sunlight that cut past moth-eaten curtains. The floorboards creak beneath his feet. There's broken pieces of wood and shattered glass here and there, and when Vanitas breathes, he can taste the age and the mustiness of the place.

No one comes here. Whatever town he walked away from seems content to leave this manor to the ravages of nature. Good for him.

There's a pair of staircases in front of him that lead to a second floor. He takes the left one and hisses when he stubs a toe on one of the steps. A Flood peels from his chest along with the irritation, which Vanitas ignores.

He finds a door at the end of a hall and pulls it open. It's all white inside. And there's a girl.

Vanitas slams the door shut.

Beyond it, he hears whoever it was inside yelp in surprise. He takes a step back and nearly stumbles over the Flood, which followed him up. In a flash of red, **Fucking _thing_** , he stomps on the creature, and it squeals before melting into the floor and darting off. More dark swirls of surprise and anger flow from his body onto the manor floor.

There are footsteps. Vanitas has no time to run before the door swings open.

First is the Keyblade leveled at him, the teeth sharp and white. The girl who holds it looks far less threatening with her slight limbs, loose blonde hair, blouse and skirt and sketchbook tucked beneath her arm—but the firm set of her mouth belies the rest of her.

"Who are you?" she says. Her voice is so soft, too.

Vanitas calls his Keyblade to his hand. With that weapon, there's no way she doesn't know Ventus. "Your worst nightmare," he hisses. The Unversed around him swarm and billow in response, overtaking the hall.

The girl gasps, but her eyes aren't wide with fear alone. "You're the masked boy who looks like Sora," she says.

Sora. Sora, Sora, _Sora_ , just like Ventus. Tension, frustration, and Unversed curl from his chest.

"You're supposed to be dead," she adds.

"Well," Vanitas replies, and the flood of pure rage that comes with it blinds his vision with blood-red. **Kill her. Die.** He can feel waves of darkness ripple off his skin. "I'm not."

All at once, everything _burns_.

Vanitas stumbles as fire runs down his limbs. His Unversed are bursting into dark flickers of death, _anger and despair and pain_ , and something scorched him, too—he'd recognize the touch of that anywhere. Light.

He braces a hand against the wall and glares, gasping.

"You don't get to hurt me," the girl says. The same fire burns in her eyes. "No one does."

Vanitas snarls. Pain and anger is already streaming from him again into the hall, and glowing red eyes reform in the shadows. **Kill her. Watch her blood spill.** "You think you know what hurt is," he spits, and the teeth of his Keyblade slice a hole of darkness into the wall. "Do me a favor and burn yourself with that light. Maybe then you'll get it."

He slips through the darkness into the Ocean, and he runs.

**Author's Note:**

> find me at [@primrose-path-of-dalliance](https://primrose-path-of-dalliance.tumblr.com) on tumblr, where i post fandom things and the occasional bit of writing.


End file.
